Mother-In-Law Makes Me Beg!

My mother-in-law had a problem with alcohol and that problem became my problem when she got herself evicted and moved in with us. My wife told me to stop complaining, saying it was only temporary and I shouldn't lose any sleep over it. She assured me her mom was a private drinker and wouldn't dare do it in our house.

My wife was wrong on all counts - she did drink, I lost sleep, and it wasn't temporary. I wasn't complaining, though.

Louise, my mother-in-law, was a petite woman; about 5'6" and, at most, 95 pounds. She had a swirl of cotton candy hair, straight shoulders and some gentle southern curves. She had a shapely butt and a nice full chest. "Mom" was softer and puffier than she would have liked to have been, but years of binge drinking had left her that way – not unattractive, but a shadow of her youthful self.

She had been on her best behavior since arriving the previous week. My early concerns had been forgotten and I was getting used to her being around – she was a much better cook than my wife and often had dinner waiting for us when we got home from work.

On this particular Friday, my wife was out of town on business and I had been working late. I was exhausted and it was past midnight when I pulled into the driveway. I was surprised to see the majority of the house lights on.

Even so, I unlocked the door and entered the house quietly assuming Louise would be asleep. She wasn't.

The smell of beer hit me the second I stepped in and I feared the worse.

I found her slumped in a chair in the living room, a can of beer clutched tightly in her hand. The room was a mess and empty beer cans were strewn about. She didn't appear to be wearing any pants, just a long white blouse.

"It's about time you got home," she slurred loudly.

"What the –," I started.

"Oh, sorry," she stammered, rolling to her feet uneasily. "Forgot to clean up. Can't forget to keep the house clean ... you men like a clean house and a dirty wife."

I didn't know what to say and stood there dumbly as she started scooping up her empties. There were too many for her to hold and they tumbled out of her arms onto the floor.

She dropped to the floor after them, crawling around on all fours while pushing the cans into a small pile.

It was impossible not to notice her tight cotton panties as she scampered around. Louise must have been something special when she was younger. She still had great legs and a nice butt.

"You looking at my ass?" she said suddenly, catching my gaze.

"Uh, no," I stuttered, "I was just –,"

Still on all fours, she shook her firm butt back and forth.

"You never seen an ass before?" she questioned.

"I've seen –," I tried to answer.

"Just never seen my ass," she chortled, still shaking it in my direction.

"I -," I started.

"Here it is," she grunted, pulling her panties to her ankles; exposing her smooth shapely butt and the thick patch of hair between her legs. "My drunk ass."

"Better what?" she demanded, leaning from side to side like a basketball player trying to keep an opponent from passing. "Better not look at my ass? Why not? Too much for you? Too old?"

"Look, Mom," I said, pretending to be calm, but more excited than I wanted to admit. "I think it would be a good idea -,"

"You look," she continued, her fingers pulling at the buttons of her stained blouse. "Look! Look! Look! Look at me!"

Louise dropped the silken top to the ground and stood before me in just a crisp lace bra and nothing else. She looked much better than I would have imagined. Her arms went up to unclasp her sexy bra.

"Seen my ass," she said, tossing the bra at me. "Wanna see these old tits?"

She was totally nude, swaying drunkenly and still rambling.

"Nice tits, huh?" she asked, holding them for my inspection. "Jean's father, the pig, always liked them. Said they were my best feature. Couldn't keep his hands off them. Mouth, either. His stuff, too. He was always leaving his stuff on my tits. You wanna leave your stuff on my tits?"

She leaped into my arms and I instinctively caught her, not wanting her to fall.

"Do you?" she breathed into my neck, my arms still wrapped around her. "Bet you wanna do something on my tits."

My arms drifted down her smooth back as she started pulling at my shirt.

I tossed her onto our guest bed, enjoying the way her tits flopped about, and tugged my pants to the floor. As my stiff penis sprang into view, so did my better judgment. Damn, I can be such a Boy Scout at times.

"I can't do this, Mrs. Lamb," I told her. "It's not right. You've been drinking and I shouldn't take advantage of that. Not that you aren't ... damn ... you are so hot."

I pulled my pants back on.

"Don't go."

"I've got to," I told her.

"Please, don't," she pleaded softly.

"I really think I should go," I said less sure.

"Put your stuff on my tits," she continued, squeezing them together.

"I can't," I told her, finding some resolve.

"Fuck you!" she hollered. "Get the fuck out of here! I don't need you. Get out!"

With that she dug her hand into her own crotch and started rubbing herself madly. I made a hasty retreat, certain I would regret having passed on the opportunity.

I jerked off slowly to the sounds of Louise pleasing herself and fell into a deep sleep.

I slept in the next morning before cautiously heading down the hall. The air smelled crisp and overly fresh – air freshener and cleaning solution. The living room was immaculate, cleaner than it had been in years.

Not knowing where Louise was and trying to avoid her, I stepped gingerly into the kitchen. She appeared from behind the door and slapped me roughly.

"Hey!" I blurted in pain, "What the -,"

"That's for leaving me last night," she explained. "Making me beg. That wasn't very nice."

"It was the right thing to do," I said, trying to convince myself. "You were -,"

"I'm not now," she cut me off, pressing herself into my arms like the night before. "Pick me up again."

I started to lift her.

"Wait!" she ordered and I let her go. Louise quickly pulled her clothes off and told me to do the same.

"Like last night," she said, climbing back into my eager arms. "Don't make me beg. It's your turn to beg. I'm going to make you beg. You are going to beg to leave your stuff on my chest."

I started up the stairs, my erect cock bouncing beneath her.

"Make me beg. I am not going to let you leave your stuff -," she was saying.

"Do you ever stop talking?" I asked with a grin, maneuvering into the guest room.

"Not when I'm excited," she told me, as I lowered her onto the bed, my erection inches from her smiling face. "And right now, I think I'm almost as excited as you appear to be."

I took her wonderful breasts in my hands and kneaded them lovingly, paying special attention to her stiff pink nipples.

Louise took my prick in her hand and pulled it into her warm mouth. Her tongue lapped at it and she sucked deeply before abruptly stopping.

"Wait a minute," she gasped, "I'm supposed to make you beg."

"Oh, c'mon," I said. "That's not fair. I was being a gentleman last night."

"Did I look like I needed a gentleman last night?" she asked me pointedly. "Do I look like I need one now? No. If you want me, you're going to have to beg."

"Please," I said sadly.

"What?" she asked, sitting on the bed, pretending she couldn't care less I was standing there with my dick in my hand. "Please what?"

"Please," I said again, this time wagging my cock knowingly.

"You call that begging?" she asked, her hands gently rubbing across her thighs.

"Please," I tried again. "Can you? Can I? Please ..."

"That's pathetic," she scolded. "What is it you want to do to me? Or me to you? Do you want to suck my tits? Do you want me to suck on that?"

I nodded both times.

"Do you want to taste me? Do you want to screw me? Do you want to leave your stuff on me?" she was a talker. She spread her legs wide, "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"No," she said in a serious tone. "It wouldn't be the right thing to do."

I hesitated for a second – maybe two, before plunging my manhood into her wet crease. Her slick lower lips parted almost effortlessly, accepting me fully.

"I didn't say you could do that," Louise moaned, as we rocked back and forth rhythmically.

I was fucking my wife's mother and it was terrific. I was fucking my wife's mother and she was enjoying it.

"I'm going to show you it's the right thing to do," I grunted, pushing into her steadily. Her legs wrapped around me and I continued passionately. Taking one tit then the other into my mouth I felt her eruption building.

She came suddenly in one crazy burst, her legs jerking violently at my waist.

I raced on, my pace increasing with her moans. I felt myself getting close and pulled myself upright. I watched her tits dance as my cock sunk into her again and again.

"I should have done this last night," I told her, yanking my wet cock out of her slippery hole just before my spunk erupted. My load shot across her belly and onto her bouncing breasts.

I crawled onto the bed and, without asking, pressed my sticky prick into her mouth.

"Please," I begged playfully. "Please ... while I do this."

I rubbed at the spunk on her chest. I blended it into her soft flesh like lotion while she sucked me back to stiffness.

"Jean's father never did that," she told me between gulps. "He would just do it and leave it. He was so impati – gak!"

I decided not to warn her and came quickly in her mouth causing her to gag momentarily.

"Hey," she started as I pulled her into a bear hug. She knew instinctively what I had in mind and wrapped her legs around my waist. She weighed so little it took almost no effort to lower her onto my still hard cock.

My dick slid into her again, we were both slick and wet. I walked around the bed while slowly pressing into her. Louise groaned when I leaned her against the wall and pushed in as deeply as possible.

"Oh," she started talking again. "Why didn't we do this last night? Why didn't we do this sooner? Oh! Deeper. Deeper. Fast. Faster."

I turned and dropped Louise on the bed, my prick still in her, and palmed her firm tits as I started to burst. She came with me, her aged pussy pulling at my pulsing manhood.

We kept at it most of the day and into the early evening, stopping only to clean up and collect my wife from the airport. Jean, my wife, was very frisky that evening and we stayed up late – Louise later told me she had listened against the wall and pleasured herself multiple times while we were getting reacquainted.

My mother-in-law and I have been very close since that weekend and have taken every opportunity imaginable to be together when my wife isn't around ... she hasn't stopped drinking and that concerns me, but I'm certainly not complaining.